Late Night Owls
by XxthesarcasticonexX
Summary: Natasha arrives at the Tower after exhaustive months of traveling after the events of TWS. She plans her arrival so that no one bothers her, but find herself incapable of settling right in and decides to wander. She hears the music first, soft piano notes which unintentionally make her smile and she can't help but wonder who is playing at such late hour?


AN: Me again! Fresh of my second week of school! So this piece came to me... I'm not sure how, but once I got the idea of Bruce playing the piano in my head, I couldn't get it out.

This would be set right after The Winter Solider. It's a one-shot and not related to anything else I've written. I also took a bit of artistic liberties with this one, in regards to Bruce's past (was gonna google for info, but then I remembered it's called fan fiction for a reason and that if I wanted this to work like I had planned, it was best to leave that little detail be).

I own nothing except for my mistakes.

* * *

The tower was dark, exactly as Stark had promised. The freshly adjusted _A_ shone brightly over the city. The exterior lights accompanied the letter, informing the world that what had once been _Stark Tower_ was now the Avenger's New Headquarters, where 'if you stepped inside you could run into one of earth's mightiest heroes!'

Natasha tried to not scoff at the thought. A hero was the last thing she felt like at the moment.

But the inside of the tower was pitch black, except for a little lights next to elevator, just bright enough to allow Natasha to not lose her footing as she stepped inside the building, her medium-sized duffel bad hanging over her shoulders.

Dark it was, but silent, it wasn't. The sounds of the never sleeping city of New York could be heard even after Natasha had closed the tower's doors behind her, glad in finding not even the AI's ever present voice had greeted her. The honks and speeding noises worked as an almost-lullaby, calming Natasha as she arrived at what would now be her home for an indefinite time.

The offer had come from Stark himself, merely a week prior to her arrival. He had hacked into her phone, calling it the _well-deserved_ revenge he had earned after she had done the same thing to his security systems. He had been as flamboyant as Stark ever is, raving about the Tower's facilities and how Pepper and he had transformed it into the 'safest place in New York'.

In the end, Tony had spoken a truth even Natasha couldn't bring herself to deny: _'In times like these, the safest place to be - is among friends'_. And although Barton's place was probably even safer than a shining tower with her name almost plastered on top, and would probably be far more comfortable for her; she knew Clint had his own battles to fight and to conquer; he also had his own life to protect and the last thing she wanted was to bring Clint even more suffering by adding her demons to his.

So she entered the building with a stealth that she was used to being in, taking as much as she could in. Without the usual bright lights, the main entrance looked almost dull and without any of the hustle and bustle the guys usually had going on, it felt empty. Natasha welcomed it with a small, sad and tired smile on her face.

The Washington trials had been exhausting, endless days of trying to convince dimwitted and narrow-minded politicians of her and Steve's worth, of their commitment to doing what was right. They had been nothing she couldn't handle, but still, a necessary hazard she was more than glad to have over. But it was finding a new cover, a new identity which was proving to be even more difficult than she had ever imagined.

She had left America, had traveled city to city, clearing her previous names, tying up loose ends where she would find them, making sure that no one would pose as a threat, both to her and because of her. It had been exhausting, seeing all of her lives and personas pass right in front of her in the short span of the three months she had traveled; to see all she had done, both good and bad, bared in front of her. In the end, she had spent a week on the coast of Antigua, trying to clear her mind, to remember who she was - it had been then when Natasha had realized: she had no idea who Natasha Romanoff now was. No longer an assassin, no longer an agent.

Stark's message had appeared a week later. An invitation to Tower, where she would have room, food, privacy and if she wished, a top of the class training room in which she could practice how to kill Tony for hacking into her own personal tech.

Without much to abandon, she had sent a message to Clint, trying to not think of his distraught face from when she had found him that first week after SHIELD had fallen.

The message she had received had instructed her to head on over to the fourteenth floor, where she would have the floor to herself, unless Maria crashed at the Tower for the night (something she usually did on Fridays). But as she got in that elevator, Natasha didn't feel like pressing the 14 button. Her mind was wide awake and itching for a distraction. And with only a duffel bag to unpack she decided to delay her arrival for just a few more minutes.

The last time she had been at the Tower had been for a quick visit, to get Clint so they could go and report over to Fury their success on a mission. She had found him on a couch in what had looked to be either a living room, or a game room. Along with her partner and friend, she had found Tony, Bruce and Pepper yelling and cursing as Clint easily beat them at a video game. Dr. Banner had offered up his control to her upon her arrival and thanks to Clint's insistence, she had accepted it and joined in the fun. After her third victory, her phone had rang and she had dragged Barton out of there with a promise for revenge.

So her fingers ghosted over the floor number, before gently pressing it and sighing as the number 7 lit up.

It was nostalgia, Natasha could identify the emotion in her, the feeling of trying to surround herself with the memories of a time when her life made sense. It was an emotion she had been taught was weak, but Natasha found herself not caring. For many years, her strength had saved her from dying, yes; but it had also shielded her from living.

She heard it the second the doors to the elevator opened, the soft sound reaching her hears and making her softly smile almost instantly. She had a good ear and the sound she could clearly make out was that of a piano, the tune soft and barely audible.

Maybe it was the fact the few good memories she had of her childhood were ones filled with great melodious sounds and a beautiful Baby Grand, black piano. Even after leaving the Red Room and the KGB, Natasha still remembered how she had learned to control her excitement every time she heard the instrument being played, how she had eventually learned to ignore the sweet sounds. It was one of the first things she had realized was not an imprinted like or learned passion, Natasha genuinely loved the piano.

Her mind went over the people she knew were in current habitation of the grand Tower, but she couldn't reach a firm conclusion, not with the intel she had. Natasha was baffled by the fact she truly had no idea of who could be the one who was - _trying_ \- to play Chopin on the piano.

With the missed key came a small and shamed grunt. It was the final clue she needed, the low tone and self-deprecating feel of it were what brought her mind to a conclusion.

As she arrived at the door, she confirmed her suspicions. Hunched over a piano was Bruce Banner.

Natasha debated whether to make her presence known or not, she had arrived at the Tower in the middle of the night for a reason, she hadn't wanted to be disturbed or questioned. But the piano playing reassumed and answered Natasha's inquiry for her. So she stood still, leaning against the door frame, taking a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the new found talent of the doctor.

He didn't finish the piece as he stumbled through a few keys and notes, it was then Natasha figured he had been playing by memory. She opened her eyes as the music stopped, without it, her breathing now loud enough so the person sitting down at the piano bench could hear it.

It was a rookie mistake.

Bruce turned with a quickness she hadn't ever seen in him. His eyes were surprised, probably from both finding out he had an audience and finding who that audience was.

"Natasha", was his greeting.

She gave him a quick nod. "Hey, doc." She answered, wondering whether he would voice the question she could clearly read on his face.

"Tony said you were coming in -" He looked at the clock, "today, right." He uttered, taking his glasses off and trying to clean them on the shirt he was wearing.

He was dressed in an old t-shirt, with baggy pants and socks, his hair was uncombed and it made his curls wild and pronounced. It was a side of the usually tight and presentable doctor, Natasha had never seen before. It also informed her that he hadn't decided to stay up late, but rather, was a victim of insomnia.

"Yes, although he had promised me to keep that under wraps." She grumbled out, her annoyance towards Stark as clear as water.

"Well, he's just told Pepper and me, so as far as Tony is concerned that _is_ keeping it under wraps for him." He explained, standing up and readjusting his glasses on his face.

Natasha moved forward, stepping inside the room, noting that it indeed had been through some modifications since her last visit. The minibar was larger and there was a new TV set, along with a new chair and the Baby Grand.

"I'll still kick his ass for it." She commented, noting how Banner became a bit flustered as she approached him, how he also suddenly stiffened and moved his arms across his chest.

"I'm sure it will be well deserved." He said, a very small -almost nonexistent- chuckle following his sentence.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at his comment, but didn't follow it up. It was late, and it was more than evident that both had not been prepared to be found in the company of anybody. The man was as awkward as she remembered him and she probably looked as intimidating as she had the last time she had seen him.

"I'm sure you already know this and I'm being silly for telling you, but your room should be on the 14th, if you were wondering."

His smile was more embarrassed than accusing and his comment felt genuinely awkward and tired. And so Natasha managed to take pity on the obviously exhausted man.

"I just wanted to wander around the place before settling in, to try and remember where everything was. See if Tony hasn't gone crazy and installed three more labs to the place." She chuckled at her own humor, relaxing as she noticed she managed to make the man give a small laugh himself.

"No, that wasn't Tony." He mumbled out, his eyes searching hers with something like guilt in them and his cheeks suddenly painting themselves a nice little pink color which had Natasha almost smiling.

"I'm kinda glad I decided to move in then, couldn't leave you to be completely transformed into a Stark double, I don't think the world would survive such an event." She teased, hoping that he would take it as such.

Bruce chuckled, and moved towards the bar, running his hands through his messed up hair, making the curls even messier.

"Oh, he would love to take credit for my addition to the Tower, but I'm afraid I'm too proud when it comes to my work to actually let him." He commented as he took out something out of one of the islands' doors: a kettle. "So, sorry to disappoint, Agent Romanoff, but those labs are my own creation."

He spoke it casually, without any trace of mock or fire in it, but the word did sting her. Bruce did not realize what he had uttered until after, when he looked back at her and saw her expression had not changed, still mellow and relaxed. It was the lack of response towards his answer which made him realize he had called her _Agent_.

"I'm afraid I can't help then." She threw back, her tone a bit questioning, trying to see if he would elaborate on what he was intending to do.

But Bruce ignored her question, proceeding to warm water up in the electric kettle.

"They're good labs, clean, state of the art, with a sign which keeps Tony out most of the time." His voice was clam and almost whisper-like, but Natasha could perfectly hear it and couldn't help but nod along, agreeing with his idea of keeping Stark out of his work zone.

"Good to know there's a Stark free zone inside this building." She offered, trying to get him to turn towards her, to give her a clear view of whatever it was he was doing.

"Glad I could help then." He finally turned, two mugs of hot water in his hands.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. Bruce finally sighed in surrender as he dropped a mug in front of her.

"I couldn't sleep, came down here to see if I could find some of the tea Hill got me from Thailand, but uh -" He stammered out and then stopped as he gazed past her and towards the piano.

Natasha followed his gaze, turning her head over to where she knew the piano was.

"Where'd you learn to play?" She finally asked him, her voice soft and calm, her hands wrapping around the warm mug of water as he took out a few packages of tea bags she didn't recognize.

"My mom, she loved music and she introduced me to the piano. I kind of picked it up on my own after that." He answered, taking his glasses off once more and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

Natasha observed him, took in the insomnia filled doctor, the tired face and the kind eyes which had not once had even ghosted with the idea of asking her anything about her reasons for moving in.

"Of course you did." She teased, grabbing the last bag he had taken out and throwing it inside her mug. The aroma was strong, the smell nothing she had ever experienced before, but she found herself captivated by it.

"I didn't know you were coming in this -early, I know you didn't want to, uh, run into anyone. I mean Tony did -"

Natasha stopped him midsentence. "It's fine, doc. Yes, I didn't want to make a scene when I arrived, but I gotta say that running into you, wasn't a bad thing either. As for Stark, he'll probably have a sore back tomorrow." She spoke, noting how Banner's posture relaxed as she told him he wasn't a bother.

"That'll be fun."

They both laughed and calmly sipped their beverages. Natasha marveled in how the warm liquid filled her up, how she almost melted into the chair she had sat down at, her body starting to relax under the calmness both the drink and Bruce created.

"You'll have to teach me then." She suddenly spoke, breaking a silence which had grown between them. Bruce startled, his mug slamming on the island with a shocking force which he found himself apologizing for.

"To play." She added.

"You like it?"

"Yes, ever since I can remember. I never learned to play, though. And I do need something do to while I'm here, after all." She joked, her eyes going over his face, looking for his reaction.

But Bruce simply gave a half smile, his eyes then lifting to meet hers.

"Well, you know where I live, so, feel free to give me a call." He smiled then, a real but small grin which amazed Natasha.

"How about we start the first lesson?"

"Now?" He hiccupped, completely thrown off his game, even his glasses falling down the rim of his nose as he straightened up, suddenly realizing the state of dress he was in.

Natasha found his sudden embarrassment a comfort, the honesty in his manner something which she realized, was something she needed after months of being surrounded by spies and lies.

"Come on, doc. I've got jetlag and you've got insomnia and both of us are not going to sleep any time soon."

Bruce hesitated, she could see the questions filling his eyes, the excuses he could give her pilling up and threatening to burst out of his mouth. He was still unsure about how she felt towards him, still hesitant on whether she had truly forgiven him for the mess the Other Guy had made, up in the Helicarrier.

"I'm not-"

"Bruce, if I leave and head up towards my room are you going back to sleep?"

She could read his response in him before he gave an audible 'No' as an answer.

"I'm not either." She called back, her body moving towards the piano, her mind already decided on learning how to play the instrument.

"Come on Banner, I don't bite. Not without dinner first anyway."

Bruce gulped, but followed her.

"I hope tea doesn't count as dinner."

His comment actually made Natasha laugh, surprising both her and himself.

"No, not unless you want it to."

Bruce blushed again, stumbling a bit as he arrived at the piano, standing behind Natasha as she sat down at the bench, her straight hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned in towards the keys.

She pressed the middle C note as he answered, "No, it was just tea, after all."

He taught her the basics, which she picked up as quickly as he figured she would. Natasha was smart, not a genius like him, but smarter than most; and she was cunning and quick and thus mastered everything he threw at her.

They lasted an hour before Natasha convinced him to play something and nodded off on the couch almost as soon as her head had hit the cushioned material. It had been stubbornness what had been keeping her awake, a fear of not wanting to accept the circumstances which surrounded her presence at the Tower, of not accepting her reality. So when Bruce had managed to rid her mind of such thoughts, replacing them with notes and music and a sense of tranquility she would have never thought the man capable of, her body had surrendered to the much needed rest.

She woke as she always did, steadily and quickly, her eyes blinking open, her brain quickly going over the last information it had registered.

Bruce. Piano. Tea. Couch.

She sat up then, took a look around and found the clock which read it was barely seven am. She then realized her body was tangled in a sheet, a soft and red cotton piece which she could only assume Bruce must have given her before leaving.

Natasha blinked a few times, not really understanding what exactly had occurred the previous night. It had been as if they had both reached a mutual understanding on something, something which neither knew what it was. She threw the blanket off and headed towards the mini bar, where in the center laid a note, Bruce's fast and tired handwriting greeting her.

 _'I programed Jarvis to lock this floor, so you won't be bothered in the morning._

 _Bruce Banner._

 _P.S. Until you decide you want to make your presence known to everyone here, know that your secret is safe with me, even if Tony is not a foolproof guarantee.'_

Natasha had no idea of what she was going to do next in her life, but at least she knew she had now made at least one new friend in Bruce Banner.


End file.
